husband katsuki is sooooo incredibly whipped for his wife his greed sickens me... you wake up in a DEATH GRIP every morning its actually a nightmare in the summer heat but you cant say anything cause its just toooo cute the way his brow immediately furrows and he pouts in his sleep the moment he feels you try to wriggle out of the hold he has on you... he expects a kiss goodbye even if he's just going to the store thats a five minute walk from your place and is SHAMELESS about it if you forget... big strong pro hero dynamight mumbling "gimme kiss" at the door before grabbing you by the ass and pulling you closer... #needthat
⤷ masterlist ♡ more of katsuki
more of husband! katsuki: clingy - in which katsuki's clinginess results in a failed birthday surprise
thinking about a meet cute with katsuki except it’s lowkey meet ugly (for him at least) cause it’s orchestrated by none other than your fuckass chihuahua… he was just minding his business on an early morning run when all of a sudden he feels something bite his leg?? turns around and he’s about to start a yelling match but you’re so cute it catches him off guard for a second before he remembers the situation at hand. you’re apologising profusely for your dog’s behaviour and insist on accompanying the man to the hospital because you feel so horrible… the entire time the dog is with you guys nonstop GROWLING at katsuki and you keep switching between apologies and telling off your dog (which is how katsuki learns the dog’s name is prince… he considered saying something along the lines of “that thing should be called satan” but it literally has a doggy purse and a cashmere sweater on so he didn’t think you’d find it too funny) everything works out fine at the hospital and afterwards you decide to treat him to breakfast at a cafe because you still feel like you haven’t fully expressed how sorry you are, and he agrees just cause he finds the way your eyebrows scrunched up as you lightly grasped his hands so cute he couldn’t say no… you end up exchanging numbers and it isn’t till he gets home that katsuki realises in order to woo you he’s gonna have to woo your dog first 💔
i just saw this on twt and im bursting, dude is a sub, but not only that, he is always yearning and this is KILLING ME— shit, im craving for him so bad.
Summary: Jason Todd doesn't marry for love. That whole 'white-picket-fence' life was never in the cards for him. But he will marry you, so you can have access to his health insurance. He's certainly not using it, and he'd rather not have to deal with looking for a new roommate after you die from the infection you refuse to get treatment for. It's a marriage of convenience. No fuss. No complications... at least, until he starts falling in love with his wife.
Tropes: Roommates >> spouses >> lovers, marriage before romance, grumpy x sunshine coded
Word Count: 6.1K
Content Warnings: Fluff, strangers to roommates to friends, eventual smut, Jason has commitment issues, Jason's tragic backstory mentioned, making the relationship extra complicated in order to keep it "not complicated", explicit language
A/N: I'm both playing Gotham Knights rn and have been reading Wayne Family Adventures at the same time, and I can't decide between the two on the setting for this, so imagine whatever feels right for you.
When you'd complained to your friend in your computer science class about your horrible roommate situation, you had not expected Barbara to text you the next day with a solution. She called him a mutual acquaintance, who has a spare bedroom and wouldn't mind having someone chip in on the rent. She said he cooks, he's clean, he keeps to himself, and he works nights. As someone who'd been playing mediator between your other two roommates, who both seemed to hate each other, the idea of a roommate who would leave you alone and likely not even be there most of the time that you were around, sounded like a dream come true. She texted you the address and warned you not to be intimidated by his appearance.
You wouldn't understand what exactly she meant by that until you were knocking on his front door. The apartment building's location was in a nice enough area. Not exactly 'Posh-Gotham', but not Southside either. In addition, there was a Metro access line just around the corner that could take you straight to the University. The building itself was also fairly nice, at least from what you'd seen so far. Wall sconces lighting the hall, framed paintings on the walls, and carpeted flooring. The place honestly looked more like a hotel than an apartment building.
You're still looking around the hallway when the door swings open and you're suddenly face-to-face with a man big enough to take up the entire doorway. You gulp and all too suddenly realize why Barb gave you a heads up. Impossibly broad shoulders, arms the size of tree trunks, a scar running a few inches into his hairline all the way down to the edge of his mouth, and a section of white hair at the front of his bangs. He cuts an imposing figure, even with his relaxed stance. His eyes wash over you in an assessing gaze.
"You Barb's friend?"
You try not to fidget under the weight of his stare. You're pretty sure you're unsuccessful. "Yeah. I take it you're Jason?"
"That's me." The corner of his mouth lifts in a partial smile. "Come on in." He nudges his head to the side in a gesture of invitation, stepping back from the door to make room for you to pass him. "Kitchen's to the right, living room straight ahead, one bathroom here on the left, and another in between the bedrooms in back."
He gives you a quick tour of the place. It's sparsely furnished, but what little he does have seems to be luxury-made. He's got one of those giant L couches with a simple, blue throw blanket folded across the back. A bookshelf that definitely did not come from IKEA, given the ornate carvings in the corners and along the lip of the shelves. A leather recliner and a huge flatscreen TV are the only other things occupying space in the living room. The spare bedroom also already has a bed and a wooden dresser, but is otherwise unfurnished.
"My only rules are: stay out of my room, and I'll stay out of yours. Clean up after yourself. And let me know if you plan on having anyone over. What you do in your room and who you do it with is your business, but I'm not overly fond of having strangers in my space without knowing about it."
You turn in a slow circle around the bedroom, already picturing where you might put your things. "Barb mentioned you work nights, but didn't really say what exactly you do." Your eyes flicker to where he's casually leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.
He smirks like you've asked something funny. "Private security."
You give him another once-over. Yeah, he's certainly got the build of someone who could be some bigwig's private bodyguard. You shrug and look away when you realize that's all the answer you're going to get out of him. "How soon can I move in?"
"As soon as you want."
By that weekend, you've gotten the hell out of your old apartment, leaving your roommates to duke it out over who left whose dishes in the sink or what-fucking-ever they were going to argue about on that particular day. Jason hands you your key to the apartment and helps you bring in your boxes, even when you try to dissuade him since he's done more than enough by offering you a place to stay. He shrugs like it's no big deal and continues to follow you silently down to the moving truck you'd rented for the day.
After that, the two of you quickly settle into a sort of routine. Jason leaves typically sometime after dinner and returns around sunrise while you're still in bed. In the mornings, you try to be mindful and quiet while he's asleep before you head out to class. By the time you get back, he's usually already whipping something up in the kitchen and hands you your plate when it's done, like it's a given he'd make enough for you both. After he heads out, you get to spend your evenings however you want. No fighting over TV rights or music choice, which, again, is a godsend compared to your previous situation.
It's about three months later when you get a text while in class that he's planning to have a 'guest' over later that night. You shoot him a thumbs-up emoji and, for the first time, come home to realize you need to arrange your own dinner plans. He's home, but is otherwise occupied, based on the rhythmic thumping coming from his bedroom. His guest is also extremely vocal... like pornstar-level. Lots of "Uhn, uhn, oh, yes! Fuck, JJ!"
That gets you to pause mid-step. JJ? Jason does not look like a JJ...
You snicker to yourself and continue heading for your room to put down your stuff and grab your headphones. You drown out the ambiance with even louder music and make something quick for dinner to eat in your room before tackling your homework. It's a few hours later that you reemerge to go clean your plate, and you're surprised to find Jason sitting in the recliner with a book in his lap.
You pause in the doorway. He looks more relaxed, less tension in his shoulders. You glance down the hall toward his closed bedroom door.
"Not here," he answers your unasked question while flipping the page of his book. "They don't tend to stick around."
"Your girlfriend?" you ask, stepping into the living room to head for the kitchen.
He scoffs out a humorless laugh. "I'm not really the commitment type."
You hum casually. No judgement. Everyone has needs, and clearly, he knows what works for him. You wash, dry, and put away your dishes, then fill up a glass of water and head back toward your room. "Have a good night... JJ."
His soft chuckle of amusement sticks with you longer than it should after you've closed your door and crawled into bed to go to sleep.
After that, Jason starts bringing new guests home every few weeks or so. He sticks to the roommate agreement and gives you a heads-up every time, and you either come home with your headphones already on and blaring or stay out later with friends or at the school library. You try your hand at dating, but learn early on that bringing them home is not a good idea. The one and only time you did, the guy nearly pissed himself when Jason came out of his room at the same time the two of you were about to enter yours.
Jason had taken one look at the guy before smirking ferally and drawing himself up to his full height. "Sup?" he gave that chin tilt guys do when they're greeting each other.
Your fling of the night had gulped thickly before turning to you and giving some sorry excuse about leaving his oven on at home before getting the hell out of dodge. Jason only laughed when you glared at him. From that moment on, you elected to not bother bringing anyone home.
Aside from that little hiccup, living with Jason is actually pretty nice. What little time the two of you do spend together, usually while making and eating dinner, you share casual conversation. He'll tell you about the latest book he's reading, and you'll explain your most recent homework assignment. You've learned not to ask too many prying questions about his job, or his friends or family. He's a master at giving vague or deflecting responses.
It all comes to a head, though, when you're up extra late one night, studying for an upcoming exam, and you hear a crash in Jason's room. You jolt with a start, because you definitely saw him leave several hours ago. In a split-second decision, you grabbed your pepper spray from your backpack and your heaviest textbook, before sneaking down the hall.
Your heart pounds in your chest, not only because there's an intruder in your apartment, but also because you're going to break Jason's first rule in the roommate agreement. But you're pretty sure he'd like it even less if you just left some petty thief to take all his stuff, so you take a steadying breath and shove open the door. "Freeze!" you shout, holding your pepper spray at the ready while also clutching your book to your chest.
You are wholly unprepared for the sight that greets you. There's a vigilante inside Jason's bedroom. Not just any vigilante, either. It's Red Hood. He's sitting in Jason's desk chair, with an open case in front of him that looks to be a first-aid kit or something. He barely glances your way. "Hate to break it to you, Sweetheat, but that spray won't reach through the helmet, and I'm not sure what you're planning to do with the book other than bore me to death."
You gape, a little dumfounded. You're not sure what to do at this point... "You're not supposed to be in here." That's really the best you've got.
The cadence of his chuckle sounds familiar, even though it's being filtered through a voice modulator. "Neither are you."
You narrow your eyes at him. "My boyfriend's going to be pissed when he finds out you touched all his stuff." You're not sure why you say it like that. Maybe because boyfriend sounds slightly more intimidating than roommate.
"Boyfriend?" he echoes before releasing a hearty laugh. "Oh, baby, I didn't know you cared so much." He reaches up and pulls off the helmet, revealing his face to you.
"Jason?!" You're gaping once again. The last of your tension oozes out of you like a melting candle. "Dude, what the fuck! You gave me a heart attack!"
He drops the helmet onto his desk and turns back to the first aid kit. "Thought you'd be asleep by now, and I just needed a quick patch-up before heading back out."
"You're hurt?" You perk up and step deeper into the room.
He shrugs like it's not a big deal. "It's just a scratch." He pulls off his leather jacket, revealing a shallow gash on the back of his forearm.
"Can I help?" You're already setting your book and pepper spray down on the edge of his desk and pulling his arm closer for inspection. You reach into the first aid kit for a sterilizing wipe, rip open the packet, and then press it to the wound. Once it's been cleaned, you cover it in antiseptic gel and a clean bandage.
Jason stays quiet the whole time, observing you closely and wondering when the game of twenty questions will start. It doesn't. You already know how good he is at dodging questions, and you now know exactly what he's been hiding. Sure, there's probably more secrets and things you don't know, but you figure if there's something he wants to tell you, he'll do it in his own time.
"What exactly was your plan with all of that?" He finally breaks his silence after you've finished patching him up by pointing at your book.
"Spray you in the face, then whack you over the head with the book."
His lips spread into a wide smirk as he shakes his head. "Babe, we're gonna hafta work on your self-defense skills."
The corner of your mouth twitches as you fight off your grin. "Not tonight. I'm going to bed, and you apparently need to get back to your private security job." You toss the trash from the first aid kit into the mini trash can on the ground next to his desk, then take your stuff and head back to your room.
"Good night," he calls to you when you're passing through his doorway.
You pause and turn back to look at him. "Be careful out there."
"You worried about me?"
You stare back him him for a moment too long. "I just don't want to go back to my old living situation." That's not the whole truth. You know it, and he knows it, too, based on the look in his eyes. You turn away and return to your room before he can say anything else.
The following evening, the two of you have a more in-depth conversation regarding his vigilanteism. He explains that he used to be one of the former Robins, before he was taken by the Joker, where he was then brutally beaten and eventually murdered. It's where he got the scar on his face and several others that he alluded to, but didn't show you.
"Now, when you say... dead... Do you mean, like your heart stopped for a few seconds before they revived you? Or..." You ask slowly, trying to rein in your horror at his story.
"Nope. Dead-dead. Like buried in the ground, funeral and everything, kind of dead." He says it so casually, almost like he's talking about someone else.
"Then, how...?" You stare back, overwhelmed and at a loss for words.
"There's this group, the League of Assassins. Their leadership has a... complicated relationship with Batman. They have access to this stuff called the Lazarus Pit. It has mystical healing abilities and is even powerful enough to raise the dead. Case and point." He gestures to himself. "They took my body, hoping to use my revival as leverage against Batman. But I didn't come back right. I was angry, vengeful, and broken enough that they could use it against me and turn me into another one of their puppets. I did some stuff I'm not proud of while I was running with the League. Eventually pieced myself back together enough to break out. Came back to Gotham and did some more stuff I'm not proud of... Now, I'm working to atone for the things I've done wrong while keeping this dumpster fire of a city as safe as possible."
"Holy shit..." You breathe, still processing his words. "Do all the other vigilantes know all this stuff about you?"
"The ones in Gotham do. We're what you might consider a 'tight-knit bunch'."
You hum thoughtfully. "Then does that mean they all know about me, too?"
"No." He shakes his head, then pauses, considering. "Well, one does. Batgirl."
You arch a brow. "You told Batgirl about your roommate?"
He chuckles lightly. "Nah, she's the one that told me about you."
Your head tilts in confusion until you connect the pieces. "Barbara is Batgirl?"
"Bingo."
"God, I knew she was coasting through that computer science class! She made everything look so easy!" Jason smirks as you come to several realizations about your friend. "Wait. Is it okay for you to tell me about her?"
"I already fessed up to Barb this morning about you catching me in the act. She confirmed my suspicions that you're trustworthy enough to know at least some of our secrets."
You give him a bemused look. "You were suspicious that I was trustworthy?"
"I'm always suspicious. It's what keeps me alive. Well, the second time around, at least." He shrugs.
"How can you so casually joke about your own death?"
"Little bit of dissociative amnesia and a lot of fucking therapy."
"Okay, then..."
The two of you talk a little more before he has to get ready for patrol. A part of him is a little relieved that you now know. It makes sneaking in and out a lot easier when he no longer has to sneak at all. Going forward, when he comes back a little banged up and you're still awake, you'll step in to patch him up, without him having to say anything about it. He finds that it's kind of nice, being taken care of. If he's unfortunate enough to get any serious injuries, he'll still go to the Belfry Tower or the Cave, but anything small or easy, and he'll come home to you.
Weeks turn into months, and then before you know it, you're graduating from GCU and you're suddenly starting your first "Big Girl Job" as a university graduate. You've managed to secure an entry-level position at Stagg Industries. It's a long shot from your dream job, but hopefully a solid enough stepping stone for you to find your footing before moving on with your career. Jason had told you he had enough connections to get you into Wayne Enterprises, but you'd insisted on wanting to stand on your own two feet.
Your tasks were menial. A lot of grunt work, or the shitty things no one else wanted to do, but it was a full-time job, with benefits and a paycheck slightly above minimum wage. The benefits weren't all that great, and neither was the paycheck, if you were being honest with yourself, but it was yours. You found your groove, worked hard, and hoped you might eventually catch the eye of your management team in order to get promoted to a better section within the company.
That hope very quickly dried up and died. Nepotism was clearly running rampant within the company. The only ones that seemed to move up were the people who already had connections. It didn't seem to matter how competent you were; it was never enough to prove your worth when dollar signs and family names were all that mattered.
You were already sick of working at Stagg by the time you managed to get yourself actually sick. It seemed to be just a simple flu. You're pretty sure you caught it that night some of your coworkers convinced you to go out to a seedy bar with them. It was one of those nights Jason had a guest over, so you'd agreed to hang out even though you weren't really feeling it. The bar was a total dive. Looked like the last time it had been cleaned was over 10 years ago. You'd only ordered one drink, but apparently that had been enough to pick up the virus.
You were bedridden for three days, then stayed home an additional week after that, while more mucus came out of your nose and lungs than you thought was physically possible to store within one human being. You disgusted yourself with the sheer number of tissue boxes you were going through.
Jason was a better caretaker than you expected. You'd told him early on to stay away, since you didn't want to get him sick, too, but he completely ignored your request. He made you soup, which he'd leave on your nightstand while you were asleep, along with cold and flu medication. He'd also routinely empty your trash can for you after you'd filled it to the brim with used-up tissues. He made sure to only come in while you were passed out from the medication, so you wouldn't yell at him to stay out, but he took good care of you.
After your week away from work, you felt mostly well enough to go back, but you had a very persistent, lingering cough after the whole ordeal. You figured it would go away eventually on its own, and continued to trudge along like everything was normal.
"You know... you've been coughing for like two months now." Jason brings it up one night that you're both home. He's sitting back on his recliner, book forgotten in his lap as he stares at you from across the room.
You're tucked into the corner of the couch, fiddling with a Rubik's Cube in your hands. You've been getting into puzzles a lot recently to give your brain the mental stimulation it's severely lacking at your job right now. "I'm sure it'll ease up any day now." You shrug noncommitally and keep fiddling with the cube.
"It hasn't so far. Don't you think you should get it checked out?" The implication in his voice is heavy.
"I've started taking herbal tea. I think that'll really help clear out the last of the mucus."
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Okay, can you be real with me for a minute and just tell me why you refuse to see a doctor?"
You finally stop messing with the cube and look at him like the answer should be obvious. "Um, because I can't afford to?"
"What?" That's not the answer he was expecting. He thought maybe you had a bad case of white-coat-syndrome or something. Not this. He nearly kicks himself for not even considering it.
You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his stare and start messing with the Rubik's Cube again. "Yeah, the health insurance offered by the company is really bad. It's like a $5,000 deductible before the insurance will start covering my expenses. So, everything until that point I need to cover out of pocket. I'm not sure how much a doctor visit will be, let alone the cost for the diagnosis and the medication."
"What the fuck? Is that even legal?"
You shrug again. "No clue. I'm sure I could pay more money for better coverage, but again... can't really afford to. It's just how this shit works, right?"
"No, it fucking isn't. At least it shouldn't be. Why do you still work there if the benefits are ass and you fucking hate it?"
"Nowhere else is hiring."
"I can get you into WayneTech!"
You sigh quietly, wanting this conversation to be over. "Jay, we talked about this..."
"No. I tried to bring it up, and you shot me down before I could finish."
"Because you're already doing more than enough for me by letting me live here!"
He runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the longer strands. "It's just an interview! I can get you in the door, but the rest will be up to you to impress them with your knowledge and skills. It's not a fucking handout. It's an invitation."
You go quiet once more. "...I'll think about it."
He grunts and settles back into his chair. "Yeah, well, think fast, because you should have seen a doctor like a month ago."
"Still not going to the doctor." You shake your head.
"Fucking Christ! If your insurance is so fucking bad, then just use mine!" He throws his hands up in the air out of frustration.
You furrow your brow in utter confusion. "What, do you have like special vigilante insurance or something?"
"No, I have real fucking insurance, that I can't really even fucking use, but Bruce sets all of his kids up with the best Wayne Enterprises can offer."
"Wait, wait. The fuck? You're Bruce Wayne's kid?"
"Ah, shit." He presses a palm to his face. "I forgot you didn't already know that. I'm adopted, but yeah..."
You try to laugh hysterically, but all you can manage is a coughing fit. "Okay, that part aside... I still feel like the doctor's office won't exactly accept little old me walking in there with an insurance card for Jason Todd written on it, unless this is some magical perk you 1-Percenters get to have that us peons don't."
He rolls his eyes. "No, obviously you'd have to like marry me to get on my health insurance, but if it'll get you to the doctor sooner, why the fuck not?"
"WHAT?!?" His words shock you so bad, you spiral into an even worse coughing fit.
"Fucking hell..." He mutters while jumping up from his recliner and rushing to get you a glass of water from the kitchen. "If you keel over in front of me right now, that'll really piss me off." He takes the Rubik's Cube from you and shoves the glass into your hands.
You take a few small sips of water until your throat calms down enough that you stop coughing. "Did you seriously just propose marriage in order to get me to the doctor?" You ask, voice raw from your coughing fit, but deeply incredulous.
"Hey, with Bruce's lawyers, we could probably have the papers drawn, signed, and filed within a few days. I sure as hell can't show up to the hospital every time I get hurt without people asking questions, so someone may as well be getting some use out of the insurance my trust is paying for."
Your eyes narrow into tiny slits as you stare up at him. "But then we'd be married..." You say it slower to leave a bigger impact. It seems to have no effect.
"Like legally? Yes, we would. But not a real marriage. Oh! Like one of those marriage of convenience things!" He snaps his fingers when the words come to him.
"Oh god, you're reading one of those period dramas right now, aren't you?" You rub a hand down your face.
"Hey, they wouldn't have a word for it if it wasn't a real thing." He points out, like this adds any sort of validity to his outrageous idea.
You can't believe you're even entertaining this. "Okay, so hypothetically speaking, if I were to agree to this insanity... we get married, I get on your insurance, go to the doctor, get better... then what?"
"Then we stay married. We can't split immediately after without someone looking into the arrangement as insurance fraud."
"That's because this is insurance fraud, Jason."
"Not if we stay married." He grins like he's got all the answers.
"Jesus... Okay, then what happens when, down the line, you meet someone else and fall in love?"
He laughs like you've just told a hilarious joke. "It's cute that you think I'm even capable of such feelings."
You roll your eyes at him. "I'm being serious."
"Alright, alright. Hypothetically speaking, if you later on meet someone and 'fall in love', then we divorce and go our separate ways. Easy-peasy. It doesn't have to be complicated."
"This is fucking crazy." You give him a hard stare, but he only grins wider.
"Crazy brilliant."
The next morning, Jason is still awake after his night on patrol and is making breakfast in the kitchen when you're getting ready for work.
"I told Bruce the plan. He's willing to have the papers made and filed, but he and Alfred want to meet you first."
You stare at him like he's criminally insane. "I never actually agreed to any of this. We were speaking hypothetically, Jason!"
"Yeah, well, I'm realistically invested in keeping you healthy. You're pretty decent as far as roommates go. I'd hate to hafta find another one."
You cross your arms and stick out a hip. "What, so now I don't even get a say in our fake marriage?"
"Marriage of convenience. And you've already proven you don't take matters concerning your health seriously, so as a good future husband, I'm electing to make those decisions for you." He sets your plate down on the dining table and waits for you to take your seat before he brings you a glass of orange juice and sits with his own plate of food.
"You also told Bruce the terms of this marriage of convenience? And he was okay with it?"
Jason shrugs casually. "Meh, he's fine with a little light insurance fraud if it's done for the right reasons. It's Alfred who you're really going to have to convince."
"Who's Alfred?"
He grins. "The butler."
Two nights later, and you're scrambling in the kitchen of the apartment to get dinner finished. You'd told Jason that if you were going to be meeting his billionaire family, you wanted to do it on your home turf. Now that the moment was here, you were questioning your decision. You'd mad-dash cleaned the entire apartment: wiping the counters, mopping the floors, scrubbing the tile in the bathroom.
The whole place had become a lot more homey after you moved in. You'd added some artwork to the walls, candles on side tables, hanging plants, that sort of thing, but now you were worried they might think the place looked too cluttered. Don't rich people nowadays usually take a more minimalistic approach?
Dinner has been left to simmer on the stove when there's a knock on the front door.
"I'll get it," Jason tells you when the sound makes you freeze in panic. "Hey, come on in."
You peek out from the kitchen doorway to watch the two men enter the apartment. Bruce is easily recognizable; you've seen him plenty of times on the news. You still can't really believe that you're seeing him in person now. It's surreal. He catches your stare from down the hall and smiles in greeting. "You must be the roommate."
You gulp and force yourself to step out into the hall and introduce yourself. "Thank you for coming. Please take off your coats and make yourselves comfortable. Dinner's almost ready."
"It smells divine." Bruce gives you a charming smile that makes your face hot. "Thank you for having us." He holds out a bottle of wine.
You take it graciously, only to almost drop it when you look down and recognize the label. You saw it once, inside a glass display case at an art and wine festival you went to with friends back in college. It's an $8,000 bottle of wine... You're gonna fucking pass out. You clutch the bottle to your chest, laugh nervously, and excuse yourself back into the kitchen.
"The place looks great, Jason. Can't believe it's taken marriage talks to get you to invite us over."
Jason grunts some response you don't hear before walking with Bruce deeper into the apartment.
"I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of bringing along some cookies for dessert."
You look up to find Alfred standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a pink pastry box. "Oh, of course not. Jason's already told me all about your world-famous cookies." You indicate to a spot on the counter where he can place the box.
"Might I be of any assistance with your dinner preparations?"
"Thank you for offering, but I think I've got it handled. You're a guest tonight, Alfred."
He steps back and gives you a fond smile. "I take it the sunflower hand towels and cat paw oven mitts are your additions to the household?" He inquires while gesturing toward the items in question.
You laugh in embarrassment. "Yes. Jason kind of had that monochrome bachelor aesthetic going on in here until I showed up and ruined it."
"I like them. They add warmth to your home. I may have to invest in my own pair of pawprint oven mitts."
You giggle again and hope he's not just really good at masking his sarcasm. "I'll have to keep that in mind when Christmas comes around."
Dinner starts off pretty well. Bruce and Alfred alternate asking you different questions about yourself. What you studied in school, what you're doing now, what your future goals are. They're very good at making it seem like casual conversation, but you get the distinct feeling that you're under interrogation. You at least expected this much. You can't imagine the lengths someone like Bruce Wayne must have to go through to keep his family members safe from scammers and con artists. You answer everything truthfully, and admitting that Barbara was the one to introduce you to Jason seems to earn you some brownie points, which makes you wonder if these two know about Jason and Barb's late-night extracurriculars. There's a niggling at the back of your mind, like when you're really close to figuring out the trick to one of your puzzle games, but it's not quite there yet.
At one point, you get a little piece of food stuck in the mucus buildup of your throat and have to excuse yourself to have a coughing fit in the bathroom. While you're away, Jason feels himself getting put in the hot seat.
"So... she seems cute," Bruce grins casually at his son.
Jason's hand tightens around his fork as he glares. "Keep your hands to yourself, Old Man."
Bruce only laughs heartily. "Not for me. For you."
Jason shifts in his seat, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you're still in the bathroom. "It's not like that."
"Ah, yes. I do believe young master Jason called it a marriage of convenience, Sir."
"Yeah," Bruce scoffs like he doesn't believe a word of it. "Normally, something like that means both parties have something to gain. Once she's married to you, what do you get out of it?"
Jason stares back at his mentor and father figure. They've certainly had their ups and downs over the years, but Jason trusts that Bruce is just trying to look out for him in this moment. "I just want her to live a long and healthy life. She deserves to have someone taking care of her, even if she says she doesn't want it."
Bruce hums and mulls over his words.
You return from the bathroom at that point and smile shyly while returning to your seat. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"
"We were just beginning to discuss the logistics of your marital arrangement," Bruce supplies helpfully.
"Oh, perfect. I want a prenup," you announce, and the table goes dead quiet.
All three men stop eating and turn to look at you inquisitively. "I... wasn't aware you had any assets you wanted to protect," Bruce starts up again.
"Not for me. For Jason." You point over at him. "I want to make this clear from the get-go that I don't want any of his money."
Jason sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "See? This is exactly what I was talking about. She's a detriment to her own health."
"What the hell does that mean?" you ask with a dangerous lilt to your tone.
"It means we're not getting a fucking prenup."
"What, so you actually want me to go running off with half your stuff?"
He releases a dry chuckle. "Oh, baby, I'd like to see you try."
Alfred leans in his chair to whisper toward Bruce. "Sir, I do believe we are bearing witness to young master Jason's first marital spat."
"We should have brought some popcorn."
The two of you continue to argue for several minutes, impressing both Bruce and Alfred with your ability to hold your ground against Jason, even though every argument you provide only makes him more frustrated. Even more impressive is how long Jason continues to maintain his composure, even when everything you say irritates him even further. He's completely blown up at his siblings or his enemies for offenses far less than this. They can see how easily you're able to slip under his skin, but it's almost like he doesn't even mind that you're there. That maybe, he even enjoys it.
The two share a knowing look before Bruce breaks up your arguing with a decisive, "Ahem." You both stop and look his way. "I'll have my lawyers whip up a contract that should satisfy all parties. You'll still need to take it down to City Hall to have it notarized, but if we work quick enough, you both can be officially married by the end of the week."
"Jesus, you know how to get shit done," you gape at him.
"I prefer the term efficient," Bruce laughs.
"Welcome to the Bat Family, young Miss," Alfred smiles warmly.
Your head tilts curiously. "The Bat Family?"
All three men tense up once more, the older two pinning Jason with a look. "I thought you said you told her," Bruce frowns.
"I told her about me! Not about you!"
That's when it clicks. Jason running around as Robin at the same time he'd been adopted by Bruce, the Barbara connection, Bat Family??? "Oh my God, you're fucking Batman!"
Bruce and Alfred make their escape while you're laying into Jason for not better preparing you to play hostess to fucking Batman himself. You end the night by taking the box of Alfred's cookies into your room and refusing to share any of them with him despite his numerous apologies through your locked bedroom door.
This story has absolutely spiraled into a whole thing and got way longer than I was expecting. I'm splitting it into multiple parts for everyone's sanity
Jason Todd is a loser. He has tons of weird little quirks and habits that vary from cleaning his guns with razor sharp precision to… well you don’t know. But you’ve made it your mission to find out about all of them, catching them like Pokémon, not resting till you have em all. And of course, you couldn’t help yourself and pick a favorite: the way he connotes books. Like full-on-writes-in-them-and-breaks-the-spine-kinda annotation. Not like it’s his fault either. He’s a busy guy - so when he reads it’s on patrol times or between stakeouts. Whether it’s underlining his favorite quotes or adding his own commentary - that boy makes sure the book is filled to the brim with his thoughts. It helps him relax, order his mind, all that good stuff. Somehow, neither of you remember how, it became a shared thing. One recommendation here, another there and before you knew it - he gave you one of his books as a present. The closest you get to his guarded heart. It has become an unspoken ritual, the only conversation happening between the pages of whatever story’s next. Usually it goes like this: he reads a book, might drop a sentence about it in person, and after some time you’ll find it on your table with a note that gives a quick judgement like “good book” or “hated it”. Then you read it, giggle at the jokes he specifically wrote in for you, and add your own commentary. He gets the book back - and so the cycle continues. So of course it’s a bit confusing when he comes to give you a book in person and mutters about how you can keep it and don’t have to give it back to him.
Though the moment you read it, you understand. On the last page, written small and soft enough to miss if you weren’t looking, are the words: “wanna go on a date?”
warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods
Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.
He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.
And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.
With other people though, he has…different methods.
You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.
You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.
His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.
“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.
A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.
Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.
Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.
Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.
“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.
Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.
“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.
The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”
“Mhm.” He grumbles.
The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.
“Jay?”
His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”
You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.
“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.
He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.
You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.
His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.
You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.
Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.
He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.
Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.
“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.
Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”
“Thank God.”
Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.
His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.
“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”
Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).
You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.
Fuck he loves you.
Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.
He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.
You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.
You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.
“Hey there.”
You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.
"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."
Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.
"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"
"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.
Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.
With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.
"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.
“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”
You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.
Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.
Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.
But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.
"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."
“She—”
“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”
The guy hesitates.
“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.
That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”
Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.
He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.
“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.
“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.
You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”
He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.
You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.
“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”
He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.
“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.
You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.
“Jaybird!”
Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.
You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.
So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.
You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.
You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”
"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.
He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.
You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.
Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.
You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.
You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.
"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.
Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.
“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.
He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.
If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.
He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.
You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.
So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.
warnings: smut, mention of jasons scars, jason with kids :)
a/n: this is hella fucking random, i had a completely different idea for this that was only supposed to be suggestive but then i thought about jason with his shirt off while the sun was blazing and got carried away. i literally don't know what this is
Sweat trickles down his back, and when he scrunches up his face as he tilts his head back to catch the football that sails through the air, his nose aches from the beginnings of a sunburn. With a long arm and a small hop, Jason catches the football with one hand, nearly dropping it from how slick with sweat it is. “He just did the Odell!” A chorus of middle school-aged boys shout in awe, eyes wide and mouths agape at Jason’s impressive catch.
Jason smiles sheepishly and underhand tosses the ball to one of the kids before pulling the neck of his shirt up to his face to wipe sweat off his eyelids and eyebrows. “That’s was hella cool, Jason,” one of the kids—Duke—compliments. It’s hot as hell in Gotham today—98 degrees, and he’s outside playing football with the kids from your apartment complex. Some of them run through a sprinkler on the other side of the field he’s playing in, and Jason wants to do the same. “I thought you were going to drop it!”
“Me too,” Jason pants, pinching his sticky shirt between two fingers and pulling it off of his body to create some kind of airflow despite the lack of a breeze in the air. “It’s so fucking hot.” He grumbles to himself, pushing his sweaty hair off of his equally sweaty forehead.
“Yo!” Jason looks up in time to see the football sailing towards him. He backs up just in time for it to hit him in the chest, and he’s able to catch it in his arm. His sweat-soaked tshirt sticks to him in the most uncomfortable way, some of the sweat transferring onto the ball.
Jason wants to take his shirt off, but he’s not at the beach or pool, and finds it to be a little inappropriate and out of place, even if he is about to pass out from this heat. All the kids around him run around without shirts, but they’re just skin and bones. Jason is pure muscle and has a few scars, and doesn’t need a reason to be looked at more than he already is. Deep down, he knows it’s not that serious; it is damn near 100 degree out, and he’s seen multiple people in the apartment complex come outside in various states of undress.
Deciding to bite the bullet, Jason tosses the ball to Duke and then yanks his soiled shirt over his head and tosses it onto the grass. The stickiness persists, but not in that uncomfortable way it was before. “Woah, how’d you get that?” One of the kids ask, arm outstretched to point at the long scar on his torso. His eyes are wide in curiosity, and Jason glances down at the gnarly mark on his skin.
"Uh... I was in an accident," Jason says vaguely, not the least bit comfortable with sharing the truth about the marks that he got when he was just barely older than these kids.
"That's crazy. Hey, pass me the ball!" Jason is grateful that the conversation came and went so casually. If he shared the real answer, he's sure that they'd still be talking about it, answering so many questions that he shouldn't be asked in the first place.
It's barely better without a shirt, but at least the sweat doesn't have excess material to cling to. Jason continues to toss the ball back and forth with the boys, the sun burning his skin while it tans theirs. "Bro looks like Larry the Lobster," Duke snickers, pointing at Jasons back and electing the other kids to start laughing too.
"Jason, can I give you a five-star?" His face burns red at the teasing, but he doesn't fire anything back. He lets himself get roasted by the sun and these kids, letting himself be the butt of the joke because thats all it is: a joke. He didn't get to joke like this as a kid, wasn't as carefree as these kids are and it heals a small part of him to get to be a part of it, even if they are making fun of him.
"Does it hurt?" Duke asks, nonplussed, eyeing Jasons reddening skin with mild curiosity. Jason wants to ask him what he thinks, but he figures Duke has never been sun burned before.
"A little," and he swears that after he confirms, they start tossing the ball at him harder than before, purposefully trying to make him hiss out in pain. They find it hilarious to watch Jason, 6'5, 240 pounds–a grown man–wince because of a sunburn.
Luckily, you show up at that moment, a few water bottles in your hand, and sun screen wedged in your shorts pocket. "Come get water," you call from the courtyard, stopping a few feet away from the grass. The football is dropped in the grass, and the group of boys quickly run over to you, crowding around you like badgers. "Backup, back up, back up! It's too hot to be on me like that." You say, passing each of them water.
Jason watches you interact with them from his place still on the grass. They're all so comfortable with you, which makes him wonder if, in part, why they're all pretty comfortable around him. He knows you used to babysit a majority of the kids in the neighborhood while you were in college, and still sometimes do when you aren't busy on the weekends, even though you have a full time job and real responsibilities. You are like their older cousin, a big sister of sorts, having watched them grow up.
"Baby, c'mere," You call out to Jason, waving a water bottle in the air. You rake your eyes down his shirtless torso and narrow your eyes, a small smirk on your lips. Jason snatches his shirt up from the grass and makes his way over to you, trying his best to appear as unsexy as possible but failing because he's Jason Todd.
"Baby," Duke mocks, ducking when you try and shove him by his head. He's nearly as tall as you now, and you remember when he was barely in first grade. "He's not a baby, he's grown."
"Yeah, so stay out of grown business!" Jasons lips quirk as he approaches you, gently moving a few of the kids out of his path. “Here, babe.” You hand him the chilled water and he immediately cracks it open and chugs it, finishing the whole thing in a few gulps.
“Wait! I wanna try that!” Now the kids make a game out of it and you roll your eyes affectionately before glancing over at Jason and his red chest. He just pants lightly, the plastic bottle crushed in his fist, and tries to catch his breath in the midst of the heat.
“You need sunscreen,” you murmur. It bulges in your pocket and Jason nods at it, pushing his hair back. You shake your head. “I’ll put it on.” Jason smirks, ready to say something too inappropriate, but catches himself since he’s around the kids. He just sidles up next to you, snaking a hand around your backside.
“Hot?” He murmurs, looking down at you with eyes that aren’t safe for outside of the confines of your apartment. He takes note of the fact that you’re wearing a bikini under your clothes. Sweat pools at the exposed part of your back underneath your cropped tank top. Your brow bone shines with perspiration.
“Mhm. The AC isn’t as cold…” you trail off, eyeing his neck. It’s not a lie, your AC has slowly been getting warmer and warmer all day. It’s most likely because of the fact that Gotham is pushing it with the heat and the poor AC unit is working over time.
Jason watches you eyes dip from his neck to his collarbones then to his hard chest. “Want me to take a look at it again?” His arm curls around you tighter, pressing his sticky body to your own. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s Jason, so you let your skins melt together.
You nod sort of like you’re in a trance. Your eyes are low even as you look up at him through your lashes. Heat—not just from the sun—pools in his belly from the look you give him. He nods in the direction of the stairs to your apartment, letting go of your waist to grab your hand.
“Hey! You’re still playing, right?” Duke asks, him and all of the other boys looking at Jason expectantly.
“Give me thirty minutes, I need a break,” he says, feeling a little guilty. However that feeling quickly subsides when one of them calls him unc. None of them wear a watch anyway, so he assumes they’ll forget about him since they can’t keep track of time.
Jason quickly drags you up the stairs and into your apartment that is significantly cooler than outside, but hotter than he remembers it being from this morning. He partially assumed you were using the AC as an excuse to jump his bones, but he’s quickly come to realize you’re serious. “Damn, it’s hot,” he sighs, shutting the door and locking it.
“I know. You want aloe? You’re burned,” you say, pressing your lips to the back of his his arm as you float by him, nails raking against his toned abdomen on your way to the bathroom.
Jason only scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head at you and going to grab the toolbox he left on your kitchen table this morning.
“Wait,” you call, coming back with the green bottle. You squeeze some into your hand as you make your way to him, an eager smile on your face as you rub your palms together
“You just want to feel me up,” Jason grunts as you press your palms into his back.
“And you want me to,” you say, hands sliding down to his waist towards his hips. Jason blushes and you smirk, your roles reversing for a split second.
“Yeah, I do,” he mutters, letting your drag your hands up and down his back. The aloe soothes him and cools him down some.
Rounding to his front, you squeeze more aloe Vera gel into your and slide your hands over the tops of his shoulders and down his arms, smiling to yourself as you shamelessly get to feel him up. “What?” Jason rasps, looking down at you with a small, inquisitive smile on his face.
“Nothin,” you drag your hands across his chest and down to his abdomen, careful not to press too hard on his scars just for his comfort. “They ask about these?” You ask, hands softly massaging the gel into the ridges of his stomach.
“Yeah. They were just curious, but didn’t care enough to keep asking,” he says. You snort, hands smoothing down his sides and sliding to the front, stopping right above the waist of his shorts. Jason swallows as your hands ghost over his happy trail below his belly button. “You want me to fix that AC?” One of his hands slides down to your ass, pulling you closer to him and gripping it through your denim shorts.
“Yes, actually,” you say, kissing his Adam’s apple and pushing away from him. Jason rolls his eyes but grabs the toolbox he dropped onto the floor and heads over to the metal box in your window.
You make yourself busy around your apartment while Jason messes around with the AC. It’s a lucky thing that he’s handy because after about fifteen minutes, the AC makes a sound like it’s been turned on, and cold air begins to filter through your apartment.
“I think I fixed it,” Jason calls, dropping the screwdriver into the toolbox before standing up from his kneeling position on the floor. You come into the living room with a bottle of water for him, sighing in relief when you feel the cool air.
Passing him the water, you drop onto the living chair next to the AC and close your eyes. “Thank you,” you sigh, a content smile on your face. Jason smiles and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead and then presses the cold water bottle under your neck to make you yelp.
He laughs and drops onto the sofa, draping his long arms across the back of the couch and spreading out his legs. Jason’s head drops against the pillows and he closes his eyes as he basks in the coolness of your apartment.
You watch him, bottom lip in between your teeth, and the heat you feel between your legs has nothing to do with the summer heat. His chest moves up and down as he breathes deeply, a sheen from the aloe gel coating his skin and making him glow. It’s entirely too hot, and not nearly cool enough in the apartment yet to have sex, but you don’t care.
Jason slowly tilts his head up when he hears you get up, and a smirk pulls at his lips when you straddle him. “It’s hot,” he teases, but his hands are already pulling at the hem of your tank top, pushing it up and over your bikini clad chest.
You pull the tank-top over your head and toss it onto the couch. You drag your hands down his chest as he reaches behind you to untie your bikini strings, hands immediately cupping your breasts when the bathing suit falls from your chest. A sigh falls from your lips as he gropes you, your hips rocking forward against his lap.
The room has cooled down a few degrees, but you’re starting to sweat just from some heavy petting. Jason takes one of your nipples in his mouth and fondles your other breast with one of his hands. His free hand unbuttons your shorts and folds the top down. “Take em off,” he mutters, teeth grazing your nipple.
You shudder and nod, quickly getting up to pull down your shorts. Jason yanks you towards him by the string of your bikini bottoms, successfully pulling it loose on one side. You fall back onto his lap and press your lips to his, tongue slipping into his mouth and your hands sliding through his hair.
Jason pulls the other string loose and your bottoms fall off your body. You’re bare on top of him, and when he drags his finger tips down your spine goosebumps appear on your flesh. “Cold?” His voice is as teasing as his touch, and you arch your chest into his, fingers curling around his curly hair.
“Touch me,” you whine, grinding into his lap pitifully, like a dog in heat. Jason smiles at you, but it’s not sweet. It’s devilish, taunting like he’s about to play a cruel joke on you, and it makes you cunt tense around nothing. “Please?”
He chuckles before smearing a kiss over your lips, hands affectionately squeezing your ass. “Since you asked so nicely,” he picks you up by your waist easily and drapes you across his lap, your stomach and hips resting over his thighs. Jason slips a hand between your legs and slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, smirking to himself when you arch your back and stick your ass up in the air.
Jason speeds up finger-fucking you, making you gasp out small moans, core tensing each time he pushes his fingers inside of you. He murmurs soft words of praise, his free hand massing and groping the fat of your ass.
“More,” you mumble greedily, clenching your cunt around his two fingers that stretch you out and prod at that spongy part inside of you. You jerk your pelvis forward, trying to apply pressure on your clit someway.
“I want you coming on my cock, baby,” he says, obliging and slipping in a third finger. You grunt softly, toes curling as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. You can feel his hard cock poking your belly through the material of his shorts. “Fuck, baby. Need you now.” You clench around his thick fingers, your core squelching as he fucks his fingers into you quickly.
The pressure from his fingers makes your clit throb, begging to be touched and played with. “Jason, touch me,” you beg, blinking rapidly from the pressure you feel and your climax being so close but so far away.
“Almost baby, almost,” it’s cruel the way he keeps finger fucking you and refusing to touch where you need him the most. You start to move your hips in tandem with his fingers, trying to find some kind of release. He only chuckles darkly, free hand coming down hard on your ass. “Needy.”
You moan at the contact, pushing your hips back like you want more. Sweat beads at your forehead, but it’s still cool in your living room. “Need you inside,” you whine as a soft moan slipping out of your lips, your hands coming under your chest to fondle your breasts and sensitive nipples.
“Yeah?” His hand comes down on your ass again and you yelp out a moan, hand squeezing your chest. “Fuck, I need to be inside of you too.”
Each time he slaps your ass, he always runs a big, soothing hand over your hot skin. He brings you close to the edge just for there to be no finale, no tipping over—no orgasm. You whine on his lap, fingers rubbing your nipples to bring some type of sensation to you.
Finally, he pulls his wet fingers out of you, licking them clean before pulling you up onto your knees. You huff, cheeks red and skin sticky with sweat, and glare at him. Jason tries to kiss you and you dodge him, pushing his face away and ducking. “Wow, really?”
“I didn’t get to cum!” You whine, hitting him on the chest. He smiles and snatches your wrists up, holding them together in one of his hands against his chest. “Let me go so I can do it myself.”
“Can I take my pants off and give you what you want? Please?” Now it’s his turn to be cute. He presses a kiss to your knuckles and you glare at him harder, cunt throbbing with need. “Cmon, I’ll give it to you good. I won’t last if your fine ass keeps looking at me like that, stop it.” He says, bringing his other hand up to your cheek.
His words are sincere and you know it, so you acquiesce quickly, letting yourself lean into his loving touch. For someone so large, he's quite gentle with you. "C'mere, pretty," Jason says, hand firmly holding your jaw to bring your face towards his own into a kiss. You let him kiss you but not for long, pulling away when he tries to kiss you with tongue. "Fine, I'll break you off."
Jason lies you flat on the couch because he knows you're gonna complain if he makes you get on top after edging you. He drops his shorts and boxers from his waist, his cock hard and heavy in between his legs. You sigh at the sigh, cunt buzzing with need and dripping with your arousal.
There's not much space on the couch for this position, but you and Jason have fucked in smaller places in much more compromising positions, and he's anything but a quitter so he makes it work.
"Stoppp," you whine when he teases your entrance, dragging the tip along your folds and brushing over your swollen clit. He laughs like it's funny, like he hasn't been giving you hell for the past ten minutes.
Brushing a hand against the hair that falls in his face, Jason looks down at you like he has some devious plan up his sleeve. "Can you just fuck me already or get out?" You quip, the need to cum and the heat making you agitated.
Jason scoffs out a laugh, eyebrow quirking. "You eat today?"
"Yes-ungh, " he slips inside of you easily due to your wetness, catching you off guard and making your mouth fall open. You relax into the couch cushions below you, soft moans like music to his ears. Jason leans over you and holds onto the arm of the couch, his muscular arm right next to your head.
"Finally got you to shut up," he teases, feeling a little breathless himself. You try to glare at him, but he brings a hand down between you and draws soft circles around your clit that make you arch up into him and mewl out his name. "Just keep saying my name, baby."
He pushes in and out of you steadily, sweat beading on every inch of his exposed skin. You hiccup out moans as he keeps toying with your clit, toes curling at the pleasure that courses through you. "Th-thank you," you whisper prematurely, the feelings of your orgasm coming on sooner because of how worked up he got you moments ago.
Jason smirks down at you, his own breathed ragged as your cunt clamps dwon on him. Each drag of his cock feels like you are just fighting against it and trying to keep him wedged inside of you. Jasons speeds up rubbing you clit and you jerk, you knee tightening around his hip. "Almost there, baby?"
"Y-yes!" your back arches up and into his chest, nipples grazing his sweaty skin. Your vision blurs before white spots appear in your vision and you begin to shake underneath him, eyes squeezing shut and your hands curling into fists. "J-jason! Fuck!"
"Give it to me," his voice is low and husky. Lips ghost over your own but you don't register it as you ride out your high that Jason fucks you through. You gush around his dick, a thick rim of white coating the base of his cock as evidence. "Fuck, I'm almost there, princess."
Removing his hand from your clit, he grabs the thigh thats hooked around his hip and pulls back before slamming into you. You whimper out his name as he fucks into you faster and harder than before.
The couch scoots backwards from the sheer force of his thrusts each time he pushes into you. Tightness forms in his abdomen and his thrusts become sloppy, curses and grunts of your name tumbling from his lips. His eyes close and his grip on your leg tightens and his hips stutter, signifying the beginnings of his release.
"Shit," he pants, ready to pull out to cum on your stomach, but you dig your heel into his tailbone.
"Inside," you gasp out, making him spill his seed right then and there. Ropes of his cum coat your insides, and he doesn't have time to marvel at that because tiny fists start pounding against your front door.
"Jason! It's been thirty minutes!"
The look on Jasons face is one you wish you had a camera to capture. His face completely drops at the sound of Duke's voice while you're still joined together. You can't help but start giggling, bringing your hand up to your mouth when he glares at you.
"Jason, are you still gonna play with us!?" More pounding against your door.
"What the fuck," he whispers, still buried inside of you, not ready to pull out any time soon.
"Go," you say, a smile on your face. He opens his mouth to disagree with you, to make an excuse to pretend like neither of you are here, but you shut him down. "Go play with them, Jay. You said you would."
He sighs at your words and shakes his head. He made a promise that he intended on keeping at the time, but that was before you started rubbing on his half naked body.
Jason pulls out of you reluctantly, both of you letting out quiet moans at the loss of contact. Your inner thighs are a mess that Jason would normally clean up, but Duke stopped pounding on the door to politely knock, so he quickly cleans himself off and pulls on his clothes. "Sorry, babe," he presses a kiss to your mouth before bounding over to the front door, pulling it open when Duke is mid-knock. "Dude, stop knocking like that."
"You took too long!"
And the door shuts before Jason can get to hear you laugh.
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
romaincrisis
snowghoul
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
